


A Single Agent In Possession Of Good Training

by rsadelle



Category: British Royalty RPF, James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bodyguard, Humor, Light Bondage, M/M, References to Jane Austen, Relationship of Convenience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7871797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsadelle/pseuds/rsadelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond never expected his service to Queen and Country to take the form of squiring MI6's Quartermaster about to all manner of social events. Then again, it does have its benefits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Single Agent In Possession Of Good Training

**Author's Note:**

> **Content Note:** Real life members of the British Royal Family, including children, appear as characters in this story; skip it if that's not your thing.

Despite the fact that the event - James is hesitant to call it a party, considering the enjoyable connotations of the word "party" - will include any number of people with their own very well-qualified security, MI6 has decided that each of its executives is going to be accompanied by a Double-Oh to provide personal protection. James, unfortunately, is between missions, which means he's now circulating through a room he didn't choose to be in at the Quartermaster's elbow. And he's not allowed a drink.

James catalogs the woman approaching them - dark hair, one of the most expensive dresses in the room, professionally styled, genuine smile, probably not a threat - before he recognizes her.

"Ethan!"

Q returns her smile and leans in to kiss her cheek. "Hello, Kate."

"And who's this?" Kate Middleton, the Duchess of Cambridge, wife to one future king and mother to another, asks as she looks over James.

"James," Q answers.

"Date?"

"Protection."

The Duchess looks James over again. "Pity. I was hoping otherwise."

"Well, it's rather difficult to meet anyone who compares to you and Wills."

The Duchess laughs lightly. "Harry and Pippa are around here somewhere."

"To hear the tabloids tell it," Q says, "neither of them are free either."

The Duchess waves a hand and leans in so only James and Q can hear her. "They fuck, and then they find it funny to see the rumors that they're dating spread. You know how they are."

"I do," Q says, "which is why I will try to avoid them." It's said lightly, and he immediately changes the subject. "How are the children?"

The Duchess brightens even more. "Oh, they're brilliant. You should come to dinner." She looks over at James. "Bring your protection. I'll have my secretary set it up."

She leaves them with another kiss to Q's cheek.

"The Duchess of Cambridge just invited you to dinner," James says.

"Oh no," Q counters. "The Duchess of Cambridge just invited _us_ to dinner." He smirks. "I'd like to see you with the children." He turns away before James can comment on - or even fully comprehend - the idea of spending an evening with his future king, his future king's wife, and their children.

Q continues circulating through the room, having utterly banal conversations with any number of wealthy guests, and James follows him around wishing for a drink. Or a gunfight.

An older woman comes toward Q so swiftly that the only reason James doesn't step in to stop her as a security threat is that Q not only stays relaxed but goes forward to meet her.

"Darling, you didn't tell me you were going to be here!"

Q submits to her embrace. "Hello, Mother. I was still hoping I could get out of it."

The woman tsks, and turns her attention to James. "Your arm candy is quite decorative."

"Purely functional," Q says. "He's my bodyguard for the evening."

The woman, Q's mother apparently, tsks again. "You know we only want you to be happy, darling."

"Yes, I know," Q says.

"Well, it's never too late for love." Q's mother pats his cheek. "I'll let you mingle, but do come for Sunday dinner one day soon. You're certainly welcome to bring your arm candy, or I'm sure we know several young ladies or gentlemen who would be pleased to visit."

Q only makes an annoyed face once she's moved on.

"Your mother," James says. "Is she a peer of the realm too?"

Q looks rather sheepish as he says, "Countess." Presumably mistaking James's surprise for, well, anything else, he hurries to add, "Third son, with plenty of nephews. You're in no danger of losing your quartermaster to the nobility."

"Unless, of course," James says, "they manage to marry you off to one of them. One would think you're the heroine of an Austen novel."

Q wrinkles his nose. "It was such a relief not to have everyone pushing us together when Beatrice got serious with her boyfriend. Let's not give them any other ideas." He sets off determinedly across the room.

James follows, not a little bemused by the turn the evening has taken.

*

James spends a month in Barbados, and returns to find that a month away is not long enough to get him out of joining Q for dinner with the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge.

"They're rather busy," Q says unsympathetically. "This was as soon as their schedules would allow it. Besides, Kate specifically asked that you come along. Casual dress will do, 007. Your suits aren't needed for this."

James isn't quite sure what "casual dress" means when royalty is involved. He errs on the side of caution and wears slacks and a jumper. Q, when James picks him up, is in jeans, t-shirt, and one of his ever-present cardigans.

Q glances over him. "They won't allow you to bring a weapon in, you know."

"If I'm meant to be your protection," James says, "it won't do for me to be unarmed."

"You only need to protect me from matchmaking," Q says. "And perhaps sticky handprints from the children."

The children. James has been trying not to think about them. He's had no experience with children since he was one of them.

Q's prediction is correct, and the security team confiscates his weapons.

"They do know I also serve Queen and Country," he mutters to Q as they make their way to the Duke and Duchess's apartment.

"Next time I'll add you to the approved roster ahead of time," Q says.

A member of the Duke and Duchess's staff lets them into the apartment, forestalling James's ability to protest the possibility of a next time. James and Q are led to a sitting room, where the Duke of Cambridge sits on the floor with his children and the Duchess greets them.

"Ethan." The Duchess and Q exchange kisses to the cheek. "We're so glad you could join us." She extends her hand to James. "James, so nice to see you again."

"My pleasure, I assure you, Your Royal Highness."

The Duchess waves a hand. "Oh, no, at home we're just Kate and Wills." She brings James forward with a slight tug of her hand. "Darling, this is James."

The Duke of Cambridge - Wills - shakes James's hand. "Nice to meet you, James. These are our children, George and Charlotte."

James nods at the children, while Q gets right down on the floor with them and picks up one of the blocks spread out around them. "What are you building? Should we shore up its structural integrity?"

"Careful there," Wills says, sitting down with them. "George likes to knock them all down."

Kate smiles at the four of them, and then nods to James. "He says that as if it isn't his favorite part as well. I am glad this fit into your schedule. Ethan said it's often unpredictable."

"It can be," James answers, without mentioning that he'd have liked it to be even more unpredictable so he wouldn't have had to come. Both Kate and Wills are in jeans and plain tops, there are children playing on the floor, and no one's offered James a drink; he's never felt quite so out of his element. James smiles at her. "Nothing like yours, I'm sure."

Kate laughs lightly. "Mine is quite predictable but very full."

Light small talk is at least something James is completely competent at, and he chats with Kate until a staff member comes to tell them dinner is ready.

The children join them at the table, Charlotte in a high chair between Kate and Wills and George on Kate's other side. This, too, is unfamiliar to James. It's what he imagines most normal lives are like, parents tempting their toddlers into trying the peas and giving their infants small pieces of food to smash against the trays of their high chairs. If nothing else, MI6 has saved him from a life of this.

Between managing their children, Kate and Wills reminisce with Q, and James learns more about his quartermaster than he's had occasion to learn in the entire time they've been working together.

The nanny retrieves the children at the end of dinner - George insists on a kiss from "Uncle Ethan" to match the ones from his parents before he goes with her - and the adults move into a sitting room that doesn't have children's toys strewn about it. Kate pours them each a glass of Scotch and sits next to Wills on the couch.

"Should we be worried that MI6 is assigning you individual protection?" Wills asks Q. "I didn't think word had gotten out that you're the Quartermaster."

James must not be successful in containing his surprise, because Kate says, "Our clearance is quite high, as you might imagine."

Q waves away their concern. "James is here as a guest. I tried to refuse personal protection for that ghastly party, but Mallory had it in his head that we should all have bodyguards. Making a show of the possible danger to justify our budgets, or some such."

Kate and Wills exchange a look.

"Are you sure that's all?" Kate asks. "Only you've been quite cavalier about any danger you've been in."

The suggestion that Q's been in danger snaps James to attention, and he wishes desperately that his weapons hadn't been confiscated. Not that he requires them to keep them all safe if needed, but they do make things easier.

"The most danger I've ever been in was the summer Beatrice thought she might actually be interested in me." Q shudders theatrically. "I've no wish to marry into your family."

Kate and Wills exchange another look, and then turn their regard on James.

"I can see you're taking steps to avoid that," Wills says. "Your mother said he was quite handsome."

"You've been speaking to my mother about him?" The alarmed way Q asks the question adequately reflects James's feelings on the matter.

"Saw her at a charity do last week," Wills says placidly. "After Kate told me about seeing you at what you're calling 'that ghastly party,' I asked her what she thought of James." He pins them both with a look that wouldn't be intimidating in the slightest except that he's their future king. "Have you really not taken him to meet your family?"

Q groans. "He's an agent, not my lover. There's no reason for them to meet him."

"Your mother seems to think differently," Wills says.

"He did come along to dinner," Kate says, as if refusing an invitation from the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge were an option James could have exercised.

"You invited him," Q protests. "Anyway, he's one of our best agents. He'll be off to Mongolia or somewhere soon."

James shivers. "Do try to avoid the necessity for it to be Mongolia, or Russia for that matter. I much prefer assignments with no risk of freezing to death."

He's lucky; the mention of other countries' climates diverts their attention and they move into a much less fraught conversation about the places they've visited.

At the end of the evening, Kate catches James's hand between both of hers. "I do hope we'll see you again, James. Take care with Ethan. We would hate to lose him."

Wills also shakes his hand and asks - it feels more like an order coming from a future king - James to take care of Q.

"Are you quite certain," James asks once they're in the car on their way out of the palace grounds, "that you're not the heroine of an Austen novel?"

Q shakes his head. "Less and less certain every day."

*

James doesn't even get to leave the city, much less the country, before Q informs him that they are to join his family for Sunday dinner. "A bit more formal than our last invitation," Q adds. "You'll need to wear a suit."

"Is my presence strictly necessary?"

"I've been informed that your presence is absolutely essential. If it's any consolation, my family doesn't employ security and no one will confiscate your weapons."

It's bare consolation; James will feel more comfortable with his weapons, but it does point to a worrying lack of concern for his own safety on Q's part.

It feels like even less of a consolation when James drives up the endless driveway of Q's family's estate that ends in a manor that could comfortably swallow Skyfall and leave room for more.

James peers up at the building towering above them. "Does your family know what you do?"

"They know I'm in IT for the government."

That does rather explain why they might not have believed Q's assertion that James was accompanying him for professional reasons.

Q's family may not have security, but they do have a staff; the chauffeur comes to take the car, and a butler lets them into the manor. The butler hands their coats off to another servant before taking them into a room full of people and announcing them.

There is a flurry of sound and activity, everything from Q's mother saying, "Darling, you're here," to a child flinging herself at Q with a shriek of, "Uncle Ethan!"

James stands back and allows Q to bear the brunt of the various greetings and comments from his family. It lasts only until Q is finished receiving hugs, deflecting genteel criticism disguised as amazement at his turning up for dinner, and praising the children's efforts at drawing and building robots out of block sets. Then Q pulls James forward.

"This is James." Q says nothing else about James's purpose in attending or relationship to him and proceeds to introduce his various family members. In addition to his parents and the promised two older brothers and plenty of nephews, there are sisters - two older and one younger - a number of nieces, two aunts, an uncle, and three cousins with their partners and children.

"Oh, James," Q's mother comes forward to grasp his hands. "We're so glad you could join us." She lets go of him to turn toward the room. "Isn't he handsome?"

There is a general clamor of agreement from the rest of the room.

It's appalling. The only things that make it bearable are that James is carrying two guns and three knives and that the room's attention splinters after that and he doesn't have to suffer through listening to all of them.

Suffer, he does, though, through small talk with nearly everyone as he and Q circulate through the room.

Dinner is announced by the butler, and Q's parents lead the assembled family into a vast dining room.

To James's relief, he and Q are not treated as honored guests, which means they end up halfway down the table with Q's younger sister, a cousin, and some of the older nephews and nieces. To his dismay, Q spends much of the meal in a technical conversation with his sister and one of the nephews, leaving James to fend for himself in conversation with the cousin, the other nephew, and the nieces.

The British standby of the weather gets them quite a ways along, and James's comparison of London's rain to the monsoons in the Philippines carries them farther still.

James gets out of the conversation due to Q's interruption as he says, "James would know more about that," and touches James's arm to get his attention. "How the quality of the road translates to the car's handling," he clarifies for James. "The M1 versus the Autobahn and so forth."

Cars and their handling are, at least, a topic James finds interesting, and the sister and nephew ask questions that make for a lively conversation and a less dreadful evening.

There are drinks after dinner, everyone moving into a different sitting room than the one they were in before dinner. There's a toy box for the children, card tables for those who are interested, and a reconfiguring of the rest of them into small groups on couches and around small tables.

James leans in close enough that only Q will be able to hear him and murmurs, "Austen novel."

Q lets out a single, quiet bark of laughter. It's enough to catch his mother's attention.

"Ethan, darling, bring James over here." She pats the couch next to her. "Let us get to know him."

James is certain no good can come of this, but for Q's sake, he puts on a smile and makes polite small talk with Q's parents.

"We had dinner with Kate and Wills," Q tells them when they ask about his and James's social life.

"How are they?" Q's mother asks. "You never can trust what the papers say."

"Brilliant as always," Q says. "And the children are darling." He proceeds to tell them about building block structures for George to knock over and how adorable Charlotte is, which turns out to be an excellent strategy as he talks about it long enough that when he looks up at the clock and says, "Is that the time? We really ought to be getting back to the city," it's perfectly believable.

"Must you?" Q's mother says. "You can stay, you know, and drive back in the morning. Your room is always ready for you."

"I'm afraid we can't," Q says. "I have an early start tomorrow."

His mother tsks over the inflexibility of government jobs, but eventually accepts Q's answer.

It still takes the better part of an hour for them to leave, what with all of Q's relatives needing to say goodbye to him and comment on James's presence. The most disturbing is one of the older sisters who says, "Keep a hold of this one, Ethan. He's quite fit," as she looks James over with a frankly appraising eye.

James has been in shootouts he wasn't quite so glad to make his exit from.

"An early start?" he asks Q when they're in the car and safely on their way back to London. "Afraid you'll get sacked if you're late to work in the morning?"

"Of course not," Q says. "But did you want to stay the night?"

James shudders. "Decidedly not."

"It was rather a success," Q says, which is not how James would describe the evening.

"How so?"

"Not one attempt at matchmaking," Q says cheerfully. "And now that I've been to dinner, and brought someone, it will be much easier to avoid it for the foreseeable future. You're quite useful, 007."

James generally endeavors to be of use to Queen and Country. He never imagined his usefulness would take this form.

*

James has never been so glad to leave the country as he is when M gives him a file and sends him off to Argentina. It's three glorious weeks of proper espionage work and being shot at.

"007, good, you're back," Q says when James visits Q Branch to return the remaining pieces of the gun Q sent him out with and the intact radio transmitter he never had cause to use. "We have a wedding to attend in two weeks. Weekend at a country house affair, I'm sure you know what to pack."

"A wedding?" James asks warily.

"One of my cousins," Q says. "We'll be expected to spend the full weekend there, all the festivities and such." He finally looks up. "You do know what to pack for that sort of thing, don't you?"

"Yes, of course," James says.

Q nods. "Good. I'll expect you to drive as usual." He returns to his work, which James takes as a dismissal.

The only thing for it is to head for the executive floor.

"James," Moneypenny greets him. "What can we do for you today?"

James spares a charming smile for her. "Moneypenny. I can think of many things you can do for me. Is he in?"

"If you'll wait a moment, I'll see if he's in for you," she says.

James waits through her brief phone call until she tells him, "He will see you now."

James gives her another smile. "Thank you, Moneypenny."

She gives him a smile back. "Bond."

"007," M says when James goes into his office. "You already filed your report."

"I'm here for a new assignment."

M raises his eyebrows. "I'll have Moneypenny let you know when to report for your next assignment."

"With all due respect, M," James says, meaning precisely the opposite, "I'm ready for a new assignment."

M frowns at him, and then his face clears. "Ah. This is about the wedding." He leans forward. "Q is a very valuable member of MI6. That makes him a high-value target and someone we would very much hate to lose. He has refused every offer of personal protection and evaded or run off every agent we've assigned to watch him without his agreement. As long as he is willing to take you with him on social outings, I'm inclined to keep you available to do so when needed." M leans back. "Consider it a matter of national security."

There's no escape then, and sure enough, two weeks later, James finds himself at an immense country estate where he and Q are shown into a bedroom with only one bed.

James ignores the issue of the bed and does a security sweep of the room.

"My family is hardly going to be a danger to us," Q says.

James ignores him and finishes his sweep of the room, which does come up both clean and relatively defensible. It's by far the least onerous task of the day, as Q determines they're settled in enough and takes James with him to join in the festivities of the family members who have already arrived.

It is, Q explains, the other side of the family, so there is a whole new collection of relatives to exclaim over Q and make asides about James accompanying him.

"My goodness," one of Q's aunts says. "I never thought I'd see the day Ethan brought a guest." She eyes James up and down. "And such a well-dressed one."

James weathers the comments, the hug from Q's mother, the endless introductions to family members. It's hours of torture that end with him and Q in a bedroom with one bed.

James restrains himself to a single comment on Q's bedtime attire. "You do wear pajamas."

Q glances up from his mobile. "And you don't, I see."

"Does it bother you?"

"Nothing I haven't seen before," Q says. "I do have access to your file." Q's look drags down James's chest, stops below his waist, and then comes up to his face. "It's very complete."

It's a promising reaction; James ought to get something out of all this after all. There's no follow-through, however. Q turns off his mobile and the light, turns his back on James, and falls right into sleep. James spends a frustrating twenty minutes thinking about a better use for the time before he falls asleep, and the next day's full schedule of wedding-related festivities does nothing to ease the sting of it.

James makes it all the way through the wedding day breakfast, the light lunch, the ceremony, the dinner and half the reception before he breaks. They've had Q's relatives subtly and not so subtly hinting about their future together. They've been made to take photos together. They've been pushed onto the dance floor after Q's had enough wine to bring a flush to his cheeks.

"You're a very accomplished dancer," Q says. "Is this how you seduce all those women?"

"When the occasion calls for it."

Q leans a little more on James and says, "It certainly works."

That is the absolute end of what James can take. He takes them off the dance floor, out of the ballroom.

"Where are we going?" Q asks when they're in the hall. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes bright, and James has no more patience with this.

"Here," James says, and takes them through the door into the room being used as a cloakroom for guests not staying at the estate. He pushes the door shut, catching it at the last second so it closes quietly.

"Here?" Q asks with a laugh. "Why-"

James pushes him against the door and cuts off the question by kissing him. Q makes a surprised noise, and then he melts into it as much as any of the women James has similarly seduced.

"Oh," Q says when James lets him take a breath. "Yes, do carry on, 007."

James lets his hands wander as he skims his lips down Q's neck. "Are you enjoying this, Ethan?"

The shiver that runs through Q's body, easily felt with how closely they're pressed together is answer enough, and Q's half-laugh, half-moan only intensifies the answer.

Q is gratifyingly eager in his response to James's touch, his kiss. He grasps at James's shoulders, throws himself into kissing back, moans when James gets their cocks out and wraps his hand around them.

"Oh, yes," Q says. "Please do."

James chuckles into Q's neck. "I plan to." He wraps his other hand around the back of Q's head to hold him in place so he can kiss him while he jerks them both off. It has the extra benefit of keeping them both quiet while James makes them come.

James is careful not to make a mess of their clothing. There's a table by the door with whatever a guest might need before joining the party; James takes a towel from it and uses it to clean them both up before tucking them back in and making sure all their buttons and zips are done up.

Q, for his part, stays leaning against the door, the very picture of debauchery with the look of a cat who's got the cream on his face, and lets James do as he will. He stirs himself to push away from the door and stand on his own two feet when James smooths down his hair.

"There's nothing for it," Q says cheerfully. "It's going to be a right mess now." He meets James in a searing kiss. "Small price to pay."

They leave the cloakroom and return to the festivities in the ballroom. James leads them across the ballroom to the bar, where he orders himself a martini and Q another glass of wine.

One of the cousins steps up next to them and says, "What do you do to your hair, Ethan? You always look as though you've just been shagged."

"It's been far too long since I've been properly shagged," Q says.

James takes that as a challenge. He stays close while they finish their drinks, keeps one hand on the small of Q's back as they chat with Q's family and many of the other guests, and takes Q back onto the dance floor when he can't stomach any more polite small talk.

"How late do we have to stay?" James asks while they're dancing so it looks like he's only whispering sweet nothings into Q's ear, which he is, in a way.

Q looks around the room. "A bit longer, but we needn't stay to the bitter end."

Q's "a bit longer" stretches out to over two hours, but they're hardly the last ones to leave when they escape the ballroom and climb the stairs to their room with its one, large bed.

James stalks Q across the room until he falls back onto the bed, and then he stretches out over him. They get their clothes off in an inefficient, haphazard tangle of limbs that ends with pieces of their suits thrown to the floor and both of them gloriously naked.

James spends a few minutes reveling in the feel of all of Q's naked skin under his, their cocks sliding together, Q breaking off their kisses to moan. Then he pushes himself up.

Q grabs at his shoulders. "Where are you going?"

James runs a hand down Q's side to his hip. "To get the necessary supplies."

Q gestures at the nightstand. "Try the drawer."

James does, to humor him, and finds a small bottle of lube and a strip of condoms. He pulls them out and raises his eyebrows at Q.

"It wasn't me," Q says. "You know how it is with these things, the hostess always makes sure the guests are provided for." He chuckles at the consternation that must be visible on James's face. "If it's any consolation, I'm sure my aunt didn't see to it personally."

"I can think of better consolation." James pushes thoughts of Q's aunt and her hostess duties out of his mind and puts the lube to good use. He fingers Q until Q's moans turn to pleas for more, and then he pulls his fingers out and turns Q over.

"What? _James_ ," Q protests.

James rolls on a condom. "Only a momentary pause, I assure you, Ethan." He pulls Q up onto his hands and knees and bends over him to nip at his neck. "I wouldn't want you to go without a proper shagging."

And a proper shagging it is. James puts his back into it. Q plays his part by bracing himself so they don't go careening into the headboard. Where Q was quiet in the semi-public space of the cloakroom, alone in a bedroom he gets loud.

"Is this a proper enough shagging for you, Ethan?" James asks.

There's the hint of a laugh in Q's voice when he says, "Yes. Oh, yes, James," and then the laughter gets buried under a series of desperate moans.

Q shouts when he comes, a sound that echoes around the room while James holds him up by the hips and fucks into him until he comes.

James does a cursory sort of cleanup while Q lounges on the bed, and then holds the sheets up so Q can get properly into bed.

"That was lovely," Q says. He rolls into James when he joins him, and cuddles up against him.

James can't disagree. "I'm sure whoever's got the adjoining rooms knows that as well."

Q shrugs, unconcerned. "They all thought we were shagging already."

It may not bother Q, but James finds the knowing looks from the relatives over brunch in the morning a trial.

"There now," Q says when they manage to escape the house midway through the afternoon, "that wasn't such a terrible weekend, now, was it?"

It was, for the most part, but James allows, "It had its moments," and means only those moments that involved both their cocks and rather a lot of skin.

*

James gets sent to Bulgaria for a mission that lasts six weeks and involves no fewer than eight not strictly official border crossings.

"I'm afraid we need you out in the field again," M says when James reports in after it's over, as if James would ever protest being sent into the field. "Moneypenny has your documents. Report to Q Branch for your equipment."

"Your flight is tomorrow morning," Moneypenny says when she hands over a packet of paperwork. "Her Majesty's government can spare you for one night, at least."

James leans against her desk. "Whatever will I do with my night?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll come up with something." Moneypenny looks up at him with a knowing smile. "I believe you're wanted in Q Branch."

James acknowledges that with a nod, and does, indeed, report to Q Branch.

"How's your Walther?" Q asks.

"In one piece and accounted for," James says. The unofficial nature of his border crossings made it easier to hang on to.

"Good," Q says. "You'll need to take it down to the range to ensure it's functioning well enough to send you back out with it. Radio?"

"A casualty of the mission," James says, meaning that he'd used it to keep a door from being locked and hadn't had time to retrieve it while making a rather hasty exit.

Q sighs and hands over a new one. "Do try not to lose this one. Or this." The additional item is a tablet, and Q walks James through its specialized programs, the extra program that disguises its true nature, and the pepper spray built into the sleeve.

"Nothing that explodes?" James asks.

"Our information suggests you'll have plenty of material with which to improvise if you find explosives a necessity. Report to the range to test the Walther. I'll need a little time to recode a new one for you if necessary, and I'd hate to be late for dinner. We have a table at seven."

James shudders to think what sort of friends and relatives he's to spend his evening with, and escapes to the range for a soothing hour of target practice with one of the Q Branch technicians recording both measurements and James's observations on the state of the Walther.

At seven, James finds himself sitting across from Q at an intimately small table in a very good French restaurant.

"Rather lucky you're in town," Q says as he opens his menu. "I had a craving, and it's not the sort of place one comes alone."

"No," James agrees. It's the sort of place one brings a lover, or, he amends, eyeing the clientele, a spouse and the other married couples one socializes with. He has no idea what they're doing here.

The food, at least, is excellent, and the semi-secluded nature of their table means they're free to speak about the less classified parts of their jobs. James explains how he managed three of the not strictly official border crossings; Q walks James through his thought process on one of Q Branch's experimental explosive devices.

They are, of course, interrupted by a man who wears his perfectly tailored suit like an afterthought and greets them with, "Ethan, I thought I spotted you. I heard you'd snagged a fit, older bloke. Is this him?"

"This is James," Q says. "James, Thomas. We were at school together."

Thomas shakes James's hand. "You look like you can keep up with Ethan. I could never quite manage it."

"You could never quite manage to try," Q says dryly, but without malice. "How's Alice?"

"Gorgeous as always," Thomas says. "I should get back to her." He claps Q on the shoulder. "Steady on, old man."

"You were at school together?" James asks when Thomas has left them alone, meaning that he's surmised there's more to it than that.

"Brief fling when I was seventeen," Q says. "Hardly devastating when it ended."

James looks after Thomas and finds him across the restaurant sitting at a table with two perfectly lovely women and another man in a suit nearly identical to Thomas's in expense and style.

"Although he was lovely in bed," Q continues. "Gave a great blowjob, but he's turned rather dull in his old age. Probably never puts those skills to use with Alice."

It's a surprisingly filthy commentary, made even more so by its delivery in Q's even, unaffected tones. James is too practiced in remaining calm to choke on his wine.

Q smiles brightly at him. "Of course, I did also learn how to give a great blowjob with him, so I suppose we ought to be thankful for his youthful indiscretions if not his current temperament."

James sets his wine down and considers it best not to pick it back up.

"We should go to yours," Q says when they get into the car after dinner. "You have an early morning. I can afford the time to go home before I go in tomorrow."

Despite Q's earlier trip down sexual memory lane, James wasn't necessarily expecting them to spend time together after dinner. The sex last time was excellent, however, and James sees no need to turn down a repeat performance.

So it is that he finds himself half-undressed in his bedroom with Q kissing him and groping his arse.

"I'd shag you properly," Q says, "but I imagine that might be uncomfortable on the plane tomorrow. Blowjob?"

"Yes," James says, because that's another thing he sees no need to turn down.

Q gives him a sunnier smile than seems warranted and drops to his knees.

Q's boast about his blowjob skills was hardly an exaggeration; it is one of the best James has ever received. Q takes his time, he varies suction and movement of his tongue, he keeps it very, very wet. He swallows. James steadies himself afterwards under the guise of holding on to Q for the primary purpose of licking into his mouth and tasting himself in every corner of it.

"I suppose I do have something to thank Thomas if he taught you how to do that," James says.

"And who shall I thank for teaching you it's polite to reciprocate?" Q asks, which is a rather broad hint James feels prepared to take now that he's sure he won't collapse from the aftershocks of pleasure.

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," James says as he tips Q onto the bed.

"Gentleman," Q says with a very ungentlemanlike snort. "You forget I've read the after action reports on nearly all of your dalliances."

James considers it best not to pursue that line of conversation and kisses his way down Q's body instead. He's rather tempted to tease, but Q's truly spectacular use of his mouth deserves a straightforward reward. He puts his hands on Q's hips and his mouth on Q's cock.

"Oh," Q says with a rather breathy moan. "Oh, yes, James."

He continues to be vocally appreciative while James sucks him off, and his shout when he comes is surely loud enough to be heard even through the thick walls of James's flat.

"There's certainly someone I ought to be thanking for that," Q says a few minutes later.

"Yes," James says. "Me."

Q laughs and kisses him so thoroughly James counts it as a thank-you.

Q gets out of bed. "Spare toothbrush?"

"In the cabinet." James watches Q walk to the bathroom. It's a good view. He really ought to brush his teeth as well, but he waits for Q to be done, for the chance to watch Q walk naked back to bed, before he takes his turn.

Q cuddles up to James when he joins him in bed, and is still there when James's alarm wakes them up far too early. There's enough time for a quick, shared wank, and for James to shower before the car from MI6 arrives to take him to the airport.

"Where's your car?" James asks Q.

"Oh, I'll take the Tube or a cab," Q says, wholly unconcerned. It's an unacceptable answer.

"You'll take the car," James says. "I'll take a cab."

Q looks up from his mobile. "There's no need for that."

"You'll take the car," James says firmly. He grips Q's arm and physically puts him into the car, then leans in to tell the agent driving it, "You're to take him home, then wait and take him to the office."

The agent at least has more sense than Q, and he gives James a sharp nod. "Yes, sir."

"This is unnecessary," Q says. "You're the one who has to be somewhere soon."

"And a cab will get me there just as quickly," James says. He stops Q's next protest by kissing him soundly, then pulls away and firmly closes the door to forestall any further protesting. It's rather alarming to find that he thoroughly agrees with M, Kate, and Wills' concerns regarding Q's utter disregard for his own safety.

James shakes off the concern as he shakes out his cuffs. He has a plane to catch.

*

James returns from a mission that took far longer than it should have only to have Q give him a hastily smothered look of relief when he returns the radio - the only salvageable piece of equipment, largely because James was tied up and unable to reach it at the moment it would have been most useful - to Q Branch.

"You did take your time about it," Q says.

James leans against Q's worktable and gives Q a slow up and down. "Some things can't be hurried."

"Nonetheless," Q says, "we do have a social engagement I would prefer not to attend alone."

"What is it this time? Tea with the Queen?"

"No, unfortunately. She's lovely." Q continues on before James can consider the implications of him having an opinion on the Queen's personality. "Christmas at my parents'. We're expected to stay the weekend."

James has no family to fall back on; the only way he's avoiding this one is if there's an urgent need to take down a terrorist, which is unlikely to be assigned to James given M's inclination to leave him free to attend social events with Q.

"Wonderful," James says dryly.

"I do have my own room there," Q says. "Not the one I had as a boy, of course. Lovely old four-poster in it. Very sturdy. Could certainly hold up to someone being tied to it."

That has promise, at least, and James finds, when they arrive, that Q's description of the bed didn't exaggerate in the slightest. It's a monstrosity of an heirloom with, he finds when he tests it, a more modern mattress. There are two spare ties in James's bag, although the bed is wide enough that he's going to have to improvise to get Q's wrists tied to separate bed posts.

Q follows his gaze and, unfortunately, stays out of reach. "Later."

It's very disappointing, more so when what Q's delaying them for is spending time with his family. They're all very familiar with James now, much to his dismay. It's nearly a relief when one of the nieces gets pressed into service to sing while another accompanies her on the piano.

James leans over to murmur, "I've never spent Christmas in an Austen novel before," into Q's ear.

Q's lips turn up into a smile, but he elbows James into silence all the same.

The afternoon of light socializing is followed by a lengthy dinner. The food is excellent; the entertainment value significantly less so. There are drinks after dinner, and then everyone gathers up their coats and decamps to the church in the village for midnight mass.

James can barely remember the last time he was in a church for the purpose of attending a service. The holster over his shoulder and Q at his side are bare consolation for the necessity of it.

Q's siblings usher their children upstairs to bed after they return to the house from church, and Q and James are allowed to retire to their room for the evening.

James wastes no time in stalking Q across the room toward the bed. Q is easy enough to catch, and he responds eagerly to James's kiss. For approximately two minutes. Then he pushes James away.

"We have to be up in a few hours." Q runs his hand across the back of James's neck. "The children will be up early to open their stockings, and then we go to church."

James hooks his arm around Q and pulls him up against his body. "It's Christmas. I have a present for you."

Q reaches between them and gropes James's cock, which is a move in the right direction as far as James is concerned.

"I can feel that." Q kisses James's cheek and slips away from him. "I'm sure it'll still be waiting for me tomorrow."

He really does not come back. He retires to the bathroom, emerges dressed in pajamas, and lies down to sleep like James isn't there waiting to shag him. He's asleep when James joins him in bed, and he ushers James into his clothes and out of the room at an early hour in the morning.

There's an interminable hour of watching the children empty out and exclaim over their stockings, which is followed by an endless breakfast that people wander in and out of as various parents attempt to corral their children into dressing and eating before church.

The service is much the same as the one the night before, if more prosaic given the daytime hour and bright lights. It feels more dangerous, and James shifts in the pew for the sole purpose of feeling the holsters at his ankle and shoulder. Church is followed by a return to the manor's front room where the mountain of wrapped packages spilling out from under the Christmas tree are haphazardly distributed and opened.

James receives a bottle of twenty year old single malt from Q's parents, and a sinfully soft cashmere jumper from Q that makes him laugh.

"Something funny about casual clothing?" Q asks.

James smirks and digs the gift he got for Q out of the mountain under the tree.

Q raises his eyebrows and tears the paper off it with abandon. He lifts the lid from the box, and then echoes James's laughter. He draws the cardigan out of its tissue paper and lays it against his cheek. "Very nice, James."

"Yes," James says, although he's looking at the way the cardigan brings out Q's eyes more than anything else.

"Not another cardigan," one of the brothers says. "Don't you think he has enough of those?"

James turns a look on him that is not exactly the look he turns on people he intends to shoot. "I think it's a gift he'll wear and appreciate." He turns a significantly warmer look on Q. "And think of me every time he does."

There's a dreamy sigh from one of the nieces and an admonishment to Q to "stop making kissyfaces and build with us" from one of the younger nephews unpacking some sort of building block toy.

To James's dismay, Q joins the children on the floor after resting his hand on James's knee for only a brief moment. That leaves James to the adults' conversation that primarily involves exclaiming over and commenting on both gifts they've given and received and the delight the children take in Christmas. It's excruciating, as is the meal that follows: several courses of truly excellent food and mostly dull conversation.

James tries to waylay Q as they move en masse from the dining room back to the Christmas tree.

Q, in an uncharacteristic display of affection, or something passing for it, takes his hand. "Come along, James. Don't you want to hear the Queen's speech?" Perhaps he's just making it harder for James to escape.

There's a discreetly recessed screen in the same room as the Christmas tree, and everyone, from Q's parents all the way down to the youngest of the children, gathers around it.

The Queen's speech is, as it has always been, a reminder of what James is fighting for, the Queen and Country he serves, and despite the wear of Q's family's company, James does not regret watching it.

The noise level goes up after the speech, all of Q's family returning to activity from the attentive near-silence with which they'd watched the Queen speak.

Q leans in close to James. "Now we usually split up into whatever activities hold our interests. My father and brothers will likely go shooting."

Finally, an enjoyable Christmas activity.

"I think I'm going to have a bit of a lie-down," Q says.

James turns his full attention on Q, whose face is not nearly as innocent as his words. "Are you?"

"Yes," Q says. "You're welcome to join me, although, of course, I'll understand if you'd rather go shooting."

Tempting, but not nearly so tempting as joining Q in bed. "We were up rather early this morning."

Q's mouth curves into a slight, smug smile. "I thought you might see it that way."

No one comments on their exit from the room, nor are they stopped on the stairs, which, given how this weekend has gone, falls somewhere between a relief and a miracle.

James wastes no time once the door to their room is shut and locked. He catches Q in his arms and kisses him deeply enough that he should forget about anything but what they're doing.

Q kisses him back, which is a good start, but then pulls away. "I have another gift for you."

James pulls him in and gropes his arse. "I know."

"Besides that," Q says. He worms away from James and goes to the wardrobe. He returns with a silver box, no wrapping paper, that he hands to James.

James opens the box to find neatly coiled leather that it takes him a moment to parse out into its individual components. Cuffs, adjustable with snaps and fitted with D-rings, a handful of strong lengths of leather that have clips at either end. Apparently his extra ties won't be needed.

"Your choice who gets tied to the bed first," Q says.

The implication in that gives James pause for a moment, but he's spent too much thought on having Q tied to the bed to make any other choice. "You."

Q obligingly strips off his cardigan and shirt as James stalks him toward the bed, and then falls onto it with his arms raised above his head.

James climbs onto the bed with him. He fits the cuffs around Q's wrist and snaps them shut. He attaches one leather lead to each of them and ties them off on the bedposts. It leaves Q spread out on the bed, very much how James has been waiting to have him.

James strips Q's trousers and pants from him as he climbs off the bed. He rakes his eyes over Q, pale and skinny, naked and smirking like this is just where he wanted to be.

James strips slowly, letting Q watch him, making Q watch him. He watches Q in turn, meeting his eyes and dipping his attention lower, watching Q get hard as James gets naked.

"Are you going to do something about this, James?"

James takes his time looking Q up and down while he strokes his own cock. "Some things can't be hurried, Ethan."

Q sucks in a breath when James uses his name, and that's good enough reason for James to stop making him wait. He straddles Q and starts with taking his glasses off. They're rather a moot point as Q closes his eyes when James sucks at his neck.

James takes his time, mapping out all of Q's sensitive spots and leaving marks where they won't show when Q's dressed.

He sits up after a bit, and Q's eyes open to look at him. James holds his gaze as he reaches to the side and opens the nightstand drawer. He finds supplies there, and raises his eyebrows at Q as he holds them up.

Q shakes his head. "Not my brand. The hostess takes care of these sorts of things."

That's rather a mood killer.

Q laughs. "I assure you my mother wouldn't have seen to it herself."

James drops a condom next to Q's hip and keeps hold of the lube as he leans over to kiss Q. "Please do stop talking about your mother."

Q arches toward him. "Are you going to give me something better to do?"

"I'm going to give you something much better to do, Ethan," James promises.

He fingers Q open slowly, which is a pleasure for him as much as it is for Q. More so when he rolls on a condom and slides into Q with no resistance whatsoever.

"Oh, oh, yes," Q moans. His legs come up to wrap around James's hips, which makes his choice not to tie Q's legs down as well a good one.

Then it's only a matter of moving, thrusting into Q's utterly willing body, kissing him and then letting his mouth free in favor of hearing his moans. James wraps his hand around Q's cock and stops kissing him until after he's come with a shout. James is quieter, as he presses his mouth to Q's and all the noise he makes is muffled between them.

For all that Q was tied up, it was a rather athletic round of sex, and James is content, after he strips off the condom, to lie quietly at Q's side.

"I'm going to have my turn, you know," Q says. "Did I tell you my bed frame at home is wrought iron? Very sturdy, lots of bars to tie you to." He looks thoughtfully up at the leather straps holding him to the bed. "Of course, this will do nicely as well."

James kisses him thoroughly. Then he unsnaps the cuffs and takes Q's place.

They're late for dinner, and for breakfast in the morning.

*

James's life between missions becomes dotted with Q. There are nights spent in James's bed, or in Q's. There are lazy afternoons when Q expects him to do nothing but provide a comfortable surface to lounge on for both Q and his cats. There are dinners, with Q alone and with a wide variety of his friends and relatives.

One such dinner is with Robert and Gemma, of whom Q says, "We've been friends for ages." None of them are so crass as to say it outright, but James gathers over the course of dinner that Robert and Gemma's fathers are both members of the House of Lords.

Halfway through dinner, Gemma puts down her wine glass, leans forward, and says to Q, "I am glad you've found someone, darling, but I'm a bit disappointed it means you won't be coming to bed with us tonight."

Q turns a considering look on James. "That's not necessarily off the table."

An hour and a half later, James finds himself in a very large bed in a very large flat in Kensington watching Q tumble a lord's married daughter with the woman's husband kneeling next to him.

"Lovely, aren't they?" Robert says. He turns to James. "Say, do you suck cock?"

On the whole, it's a far more enjoyable evening than James anticipated.

Many of the other evenings aren't that enjoyable, but James continues to accompany Q to all manner of social events, except the ones he doesn't because he's out in the field.

"You went to a dance music festival?" James pauses in the act of taking off his coat.

"Yes, something of a lark," Q says. "I was a complete mess the next day. I used to be able to spend all night at a rave and the whole next day coding. I suppose I'm getting older. " He throws James a sly look. "You'd know all about that, of course."

James lets the gibe about his age go in favor of the more important element of Q's story, the part that's sending his heart rate up with belated terror. "You went to a festival alone?"

"With friends," Q says. "Whole group of us who used to go to raves in our younger days."

James hangs up his coat and stalks toward Q. "You went to a festival without anyone else from MI6?"

Q seems to finally catch up with the conversation James is having, but it only means he scowls at James. "Are you on about this again? Nothing is going to happen to me."

"You're the Quartermaster of MI6." James doesn't yell, but he puts a lot of emphasis on his words.

"Hardly anyone knows that." Q comes toward James, aggressive enough to make James take a step back.

"You're friends with Prince William and Kate Middleton." James does his best to loom, but Q keeps pressing him backwards. "You're the son of an earl."

"Third son," Q says dismissively. He pushes James, hands on his shoulder and hip. "I'm not in danger."

Q's direction is farther into the flat; James lets him push. "Well-loved third son."

Q scowls at him. "No one is going to get to me."

James leans in and says, low and dark, hoping to scare him into taking a little care about his own safety for once, "Anyone can be gotten to."

Somehow it's the wrong thing, because Q's scowl is replaced with triumph. "And if they can get to me, they can get to me with you there." He keeps pushing, down the hallway, through the bedroom door. "Nothing is going to happen to me. I won't let it." As if to prove his point, he shoves James down onto the bed.

The sex is phenomenal. Q cuffs James to the bars of his headboard, leaves bites and bruises all over him, and then turns him over and fucks him so hard it hurts to sit the next day.

"I'm perfectly safe," Q says when he cuddles up to James after, just before they both crash into sleep.

Given that, it's James who gets shot, of course, in the course of completing a mission, and subsequently decides he'd rather recuperate in Q's bed than in his own. Q purses his lips when he comes home to find James in his bed, but then he starts stripping.

"Wills took me to tea with his gran." Q gets his clothes off and climbs into bed next to James. "She asked after you. I told her you were off doing us proud in her service." He frowns at James. "I might not have said it if I'd known you were going to get yourself shot."

That's hardly the important part of their situation.

"The Queen asked after me?"

"Of course she did," Q says. "I told you, she's lovely. She's always kept up with Wills and Harry's friends, heard about you from Wills and Kate most likely."

It's one thing to serve Queen and Country, and quite another to know that the Queen has asked after him in particular.

"Right," James says. "Of course."

Q puts his hand on James's hip, just above the bandage on his thigh. "I'm sure you'll meet her eventually. Just don't get shot again. That's not how any of us would like you to serve." He rubs his thumb up and down James's skin, then pulls his hand away when it makes James shiver.

James grabs Q's wrist and guides his hand right back to where it was. "That wasn't pain I was feeling."

The sex is brilliant, if not particularly athletic given James's injury, and it keeps James from dwelling on Q's certain assertion that meeting the Queen is in his future.

"You shouldn't worry, you know," Q says into his shoulder afterward. "She's lovely, and you're one of her most loyal subjects. She's bound to like you."

It's surprisingly reassuring.

*

James comes out of a post-mission debriefing with M to Moneypenny giving him a knowing smile that certainly spells trouble. "I suppose congratulations are in order," she says.

James's mission was a success, but nothing that would require any sort of extra accolades. He keeps a pleasant look on his face as he asks, "How's that?"

"Oh," she says, "haven't you heard?"

Covering his wariness gets rather more difficult. "What is it I'm meant to have heard?"

Moneypenny looks far too pleased to be the one to deliver whatever news she's about to deliver. "Prince William gave an interview, mostly about charity work and how he's looking forward to becoming a father to his third child, that sort of thing." She pauses for a moment, and there's nothing to be done but let her have her dramatics. "He also said he thought the church ought to recognize same-sex marriages."

James can only imagine what sort of conversations he's going to be subjected to the next time he encounters any of Q's family members. He says, "How progressive of him," to Moneypenny and strolls out of the admin offices.

When he reaches Q Branch, he finds it its usual hum of activity, with Q right in the middle of it. "007, welcome back."

"Q." James leans against Q's work table. "I hear Wills has been talking."

Q stares at him blankly for a moment, then says, "Oh, the marriage thing. You can take that up with him yourself, if you like. We're going to theirs for dinner tonight."

Of course they are.

"Now," Q says briskly, "do amuse yourself until then. We have things to do that don't require your presence."

James amuses himself by heading to the gym and sparring with over-confident junior agents. Best, he supposes, to work out his frustrations before he has to be polite to a pair of future kings.

When the staff lets them in, one of those future kings comes running to greet them, with an enthusiastic cry of, "Uncle Ethan, look at my picture!" and his sister toddling after him with a piece of paper of her own getting crumpled in her fist. Wills trails after them, and Kate stays on the sofa, which looks as if it might be difficult to get up from given that she's eight months pregnant.

Q crouches down to look at George's picture. "Look at that," he says.

"It's Granny," George says, pointing at the drawing. He then goes on to name every one of the dogs he's also drawn in, most appearing as a shapeless blob of color.

"I drawed," Charlotte says, and she stretches her tiny hand up toward James, leaving him no choice but to reach down and take the piece of paper from her.

"It's very purple," James says, which is apparently enough for Charlotte to beam at him.

Wills takes the piece of paper covered with purple crayon scribbles from James, saving him from having to decide what to do with it. "We'll hang it up with George's."

"Brilliant idea," Q says. He hugs Wills and goes over to bend down and kiss Kate's cheek. "You look lovely."

"You're very kind to say so," Kate says. She stretches out her hand to James. "Hello, James."

"Kate." James lets her take his hand between hers, then sits in the armchair cornering the couch.

Q sits next to Kate. "Don't mind him. He's just put out about the marriage thing Wills said."

"What did you say, Daddy?" George asks from the floor where James had assumed he was completely absorbed in drawing whatever it is he's drawing now. Prince Philip, perhaps, going by what James takes to be wispy gray hair and a male figure.

"I said that same-sex couples should be able to get married in the church."

This engenders a conversation where Kate and Wills explain to George exactly what that means.

"You don't want people to get married?" George asks James.

Q chuckles. "I think he's more concerned that your dad meant we should get married in a church."

George frowns. "Don't you want to marry Uncle Ethan?"

James looks from him to Kate and Wills.

"Lovely thing about children," Kate says mildly, "they can say all kinds of things you can't get away with."

"Oh, no," Q says with a laugh. "We're not having children, and both of us being men, it'll be rather difficult for that to happen accidentally."

George goes on frowning at James.

James casts an eye at the other adults, and getting no help from that quarter, says to George, "Who wouldn't want to marry Ethan?" which, while not exactly an agreement, is enough to satisfy George, who goes back to the floor and his drawing. Definitely Prince Philip; the bright shapes he's drawing on the figure's chest must be his medals.

They manage to avoid the question of marriages and weddings for the rest of the evening. James does not manage to avoid having one of Charlotte's drawings bestowed on him. Q gets one of George's, and does a rather more graceful job of receiving it.

James looks down at the crumpled piece of paper covered in crayon scribbles as they walk to the car. "I feel as if I've lost all control over my life."

"You're an agent of MI6," Q says peaceably. "You've never been in control of your own life."

He's right, and there's very little James could possibly say in response to that.

"If you want to be in control of something," Q goes on, "you can tie me up when we get home. I made new cuffs while you were away."

"A technological innovation?" James asks.

"No, just good leather. Tricky coding problem. I needed something to do with my hands."

Q insists on putting the children's drawings up on his refrigerator before he lets James take him to bed.

James leaves most of Q's clothing on the floor between the kitchen and the bedroom, and runs the cuffs through his hands before he puts them on Q. Soft, supple leather. D rings. Buckles with two holes, one for Q's wrists and one for James's.

James ties Q to one of the wrought iron bars of the bed frame, both wrists together to limit his movement. Turning Q into a writhing, pleading wreck is immensely satisfying, both in its own right and in the proof that James can still be in control of something.

"Oh, I'm going to be feeling that tomorrow," Q says after, stretching as much as the cuffs will allow. "Brilliant work, 007."

"Thank you," James says dryly. He tosses the condom in the bin next to the bed and stays where he is over Q. "Marriage, really? Have we entered so far into an Austen novel?"

Q flashes him a quick grin, then says, "Don't worry about it so much," clearly unconcerned about both the prospect of marriage and the fact that James hasn't untied him yet. "My mother's going to insist on a religious ceremony, and that won't be possible for a few years, maybe as many as ten. Of course, then we'll have to have a wedding. It'll be ghastly, but it's only one day, after all." He seems to have forgotten that James accompanied him to a wedding that lasted an entire weekend. "And given how many members of both MI6 and the royal family are likely to attend, it'll either be the safest place in Britain or you'll get to shoot someone."

It's hard to decide which of those options James prefers.

"But you know what the best part of it will be?"

"What's that?" James braces himself for some sort of romantic musing on the nature of marriage. He may love the man, but his patience for sentimentality has limits.

Q grins brightly at him. "It'll be our wedding. No one will be particularly surprised or upset when we disappear to shag in the cloakroom."

James is doomed, utterly doomed.

He finds it difficult to care.


End file.
